


Lord Have Mercy On My Rough And Rowdy Ways

by jennieisacookie



Series: Providence [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Beelzebub - Freeform, Brief Homelessness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, God punishes Gabriel, Human Gabriel (Good Omens), Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael (Good Omens) - Freeform, Mortal Gabriel, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character - Freeform, Sandalphon (Good Omens) - Freeform, The Them - Freeform, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), anathema device - Freeform, and humility, background characters are as follows, gabriel learns about humanity, newton pulsifer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22938559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennieisacookie/pseuds/jennieisacookie
Summary: It all happened too fast. First the Apocalypse never happened, which prompted Aziraphale's (failed) execution. Now Gabriel has been cast down to Earth to live as a human. He is to survive without his Grace and has to learn what it means to be a human(this fic is a rewrite of "Life's Just a Game Until the Game Stops Bein' Fun" but it is also a stand alone work)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Providence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606984
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Aziraphale is a Bit of a Bastard, But Gabriel Also Deserves What He Gets

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! I have the plot written out chapter by chapter so I won't get derailed again.

Rain poured down on the London sidewalks. People ran from the water, seeking shelter in bus stop shelters or under jackets held above their heads. Liquid soaked into the shoes of tourists and locals alike. The muddy waters stained the socks of those who dared to brave the outside storm. Thunder crashed and shook the windows of all buildings. Those unfortunate enough to have left their windows open had come to find papers strewn about and water ruining everything it touches. 

People didn’t stay out for long, opting to stay inside and warm for as long as possible. They left the unimportant tasks to be completed in the morning and only did what little was necessary. Mothers sent their children out in rain gear and boots though, finding an innocent joy in splashing around in puddles. The street lights illuminated the glimmering sidewalks that were mostly empty, and highlighted the drops of rain still falling. 

Each drop of rain to hit Gabriel’s head felt like a bullet. 

He’d never been so cold before in his life, he shivered and hugged his arms close to his body. He spent little time on Earth, but was present for the first rains. He thought of the story of the Ark, how he had only heard rumors of how the humans recovered. The rain was never ending and all he wished to do was to return to his office in Heaven.

His efforts proved to be futile, as he remained under a streetlight in a downpour of God’s wrath. A shiver ghosted up his spine, a painful reminder of his new mortality. Little bumps sprouted up his poorly covered arms, his hairs standing on edge. All of these feelings are foreign to the Archangel.  _ Not an angel anymore, _ his brain unhelpfully supplies. 

He was dropped in front of an antique bookshop, and it was taking all of his courage to not just turn and run away.

There was a street between where he was standing and the front door of the shop. The occasional car that would pass had stolen his attention for the few seconds it was in his vision, but he would always return back to the front door. The image of Aziraphale spouting fire at him is what stopped Gabriel from knocking on the door and asking for help. He vaguely thought about every single time he’d insulted the angel, for no reason other than to motivate him to do better. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the wisest decision he’d ever made.

So much was happening and he just wanted it to  _ stop. _ His thoughts were filled with the unknown. He’d spent as little time as possible on this planet, and now he was expected to live on here?

Thunder crashed above his head, a force he was once able to control with as little thought as one devotes to simple tasks as eating. Gabriel suppressed a whimper when he felt the ground below him shake. Flashes of lightning blinded him temporarily. 

_ “Please!” his voice cracked at his plea. It was ignored and the fiery pain only increased. “No no no no, please no! Stop!” his throat felt as if it was torn to strips.  _

As suddenly as it had started, his flashback had violently ended. There was a sharp pain in Gabriel’s palms. He’d brought his hand up to his face to discover that it was his own fingernails digging into his skin. He released the pressure slowly, watching in a weird fascination as red droplets began to form on his wounds. The pain lingered, but not as strong as the phantom hurt resting on his back.

His attention returned to the bookshop. A lonely lamp had been lit since he had last looked into the window. The bodily form of an angel tinkered inside, probably doing something as mundane as preparing to settle down and read a book. 

As much as he hated it, Gabriel knew that Aziraphale was his only hope to survive on this planet. The rogue angel had gone native years ago. No one in the Host understood humans better than Aziraphale, other than God.

Gabriel swallowed his pride,  _ which he should not even have, pride is a sin _ , his own mental voice chastised. He stepped a foot in the direction of hope. One after another, his feet followed one another until they landed him onto the doorstep.

In the short trek, his feet had been soaked in the rain and small ponds created in the pothole covered tarmak. Gabriel stole a glance at his faux leather shoes that were waterlogged and uncomfortably feeling smaller. 

The door handle was cold and slippery. He tried to open the door but it would not budge. His pitiful human strength was failing him, if he had still been an angel he’d already be inside.  _ He wouldn’t even have been in the rain in the first place, _ Gabriel really needs to shut his inner thoughts up. A pressure built up behind his eyes as he struggled with the door.

“We’re closed!” the owner of the shop shouted at the intruder. Didn’t they know that half past eight was not an appropriate time for a bookstore to be open, let alone his?

The rattling didn’t stop, but became even more desperate. Aziraphale sighed as he set his book and cocoa down, getting ready to tell off this rude would-be customer. “What in-” Aziraphale unlocked the door and swiftly opened it, the fire behind his words dying. What he saw on his own doorstep was surprising. It appeared to be Gabriel, soaked to the bone and looking absolutely miserable. 

“Help me,” he croaked. 

“What  _ happened _ to you?” He did not allow Gabriel inside.

Gabriel tried to push past the angel, but Aziraphale did not move. “I… I’m mortal.” He gave up the information. He tried to ignore the swell behind his eyes as he admitted it. He was still outside, getting more irritated as every droplet hit his head. “Please, you have to help me!” Desperation leaked into his voice.

“Or what?” Aziraphale asked. He owed nothing to Gabriel, and only one thing could render an archangel powerless. Maybe he was a bit of a bastard, but he would not interfere with Gabriel’s punishment.

“Please…” it died on his lips. He could not believe Aziraphale would not help him! Was it not in his nature to help people?

“There’s a shelter not far from here, I’ll give you directions. Now good night.” Aziraphale was final as he slipped a sheet of paper into Gabriel’s hand. He was sure it wasn’t there a second ago. He looked at the ink that was quickly becoming more smudged. He could just barely read it.

It was not long before he got lost. All the streets looked the same, and Gabriel did not know what ‘east’ or ‘south’ meant. Each winding corner he turned into became more and more confusing. One time he was sure he had been at one corner three times before, but could not remember which way to go from there.

The streetlights lit a way down the abandoned roads. The hour became late as Gabriel got himself more and more lost. His feet began to drag behind his legs. 

Weariness settled over his brain, and his eyes began to drift closed. Some primal part of his brain told him to lay down and to rest. He was completely unfamiliar in fighting these feelings wrestling his eyes shut, so he quickly fell victim to the natural state of being tired.

He found a small stained awning above a window, to which he huddled up under to hide from the rain. It was cold and dank, bags of garbage piled next to him. A gross fluid flowed from the bags as it mixed with the stagnant puddles it was resting in. The odor stained the pant legs of Gabriel’s suit and clung to his skin.

He passed out quickly, completely oblivious to the angel who was quickly feeling guilty for the way he acted towards his former boss.

The rain terrorized the town of London, as Gabriel’s own thoughts terrorized his brain. For the first time in his life, Gabriel was completely and utterly asleep. 


	2. Crowley Pranks While Gabriel Sleeps And Aziraphale Worries

Bitter cold seeped into his very core. It was a cold unrivaled by anything else he’d felt before. So different was the office he had grown used to in Heaven, and even his time on Earth before now had not been this difficult. 

_ “Please! No… Michael, please!” His voice had cracked. She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. Flashes of pain closed his eyes _

The sun was beginning to rise once again, though it did very little to wake the sleeping ex-archangel. Nor did it do much to the temperature, staying at a firm -25 degrees C (-13 F). The sun burned a hole into the sky as it lit the black backdrop on fire. Stars disappeared as their home was being intruded on. It was something they were used to, and some locals were getting ready to start their day.

One weatherwoman in particular looked to the sky and noted with a frown that her prediction of a clear day may not be accurate. A wall of clouds could be seen in the distance, looming and foreboding. They were dark, as if someone used ash instead of sugar in a cotton candy machine.

She announced to the public that they could expect snowfall by mid-afternoon, if not sooner.

Crowley grinned behind the wheel of the Bentley. People tended to stay inside when it snowed. This would prove to be a perfect time to set up some minor hijinks. Most of it was centered around those who thought that with every snowfall brought about the end of the world. They would find that they would not have enough change to buy five whole packages of toilet paper, and would have to settle for just two. Or snobby cafe-goers who would berate waitresses dead on their feet would accidentally leave a too large tip.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t the best at being a demon, but he was the best at being himself. And Aziraphale, if the situation called for it.

His next one was an old one, but a good one. The frigid temperatures were perfect to slick up sidewalks with. Anyone in any danger of serious injury would be able to spot the ice and maneuver around it, of course. But those humans with a resilience of a tank would slip on the sidewalk, waving their hands around in an attempt to regain balance. After making a fool of themselves, they could be on their merry way. A few were unfortunate enough to fall, but only if they had gone out of their way to be rude that day. Or week, depending on Crowley’s mood.

Eventually some city worker would come around and spread some salt on the patch of ice and ruin his fun in that spot. That was about when he’d head off to the bookshop and bother Aziraphale. While Crowley was asleep Aziraphale made the habit of reading a book, most of the time able to finish an entire novel in the night. Some had demanded more attention than that, but the angel was perfectly content to give it that attention.

The snake would slip back into the shop and Aziraphale would ask him how his morning walk went. The demon would reply with a short anecdote about what mischief he’d been able to cause, and the angel would usually let out a giggle.

The angel was much more somber this morning. He had only gotten halfway through Dan Brown’s  _ Origins _ when Crowley spotted his bookmark. Aziraphale was worrying his mouth, seemingly lost in thought. He picked the book up from the side table next to where Aziraphale was seated.

“What author in the 21st century names a character  _ Winston? _ ” he took a look at the page marked by an old photograph.

This garnered a reaction from the angel, who seemingly had just noticed his partner’s arrival. “I’ve enjoyed much of his previous works, but I’m afraid his plots have grown to be too predictable.” Aziraphale snatched the book back and placed it in it’s spot. His cocoa, which had grown to be cold by now, warmed up when the angel picked up the mug and took a sip from it.

“What’s up, angel?” the demon was thrown off by his angel’s earlier space-out.

Aziraphale let out a sigh. “It’s Gabriel.”

The hackles on Crowley’s neck raised. “Where.” He stood ramrod straight and searched the building for his presence.

“No, not  _ here _ , I sent him to a homeless shelter. But Crowley, I’m worried.”

“What do you mean,  _ ‘homeless shelter’ _ ? Is upstairs not good enough for him anymore?” Crowley snarled.

Aziraphale took another sip from his mug before replying. “He showed up here last night, completely human. I sent him off, but did I do the right thing?”

Crowley softened. “Of course you did. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it a million times. I don’t think you’re capable of doing the wrong thing.”

Gabriel was pulled into the waking world by a car horn. It happened to be right outside the alley he had taken a brief residence in, so the sound echoed and stung his ears. Without further prompting, his arms moved to press his hands over his ears.

He was more than happy to see someone had slipped a hat over his head while asleep, as well as drape a thick jacket over his haggard form. Though his ears were cold, he knew they could be much colder. Didn’t humans get sick if they got too cold? His arms found their way into the jacket and he donned it with what little pride he could gather. His hands naturally found a place in the pockets on the jacket’s front. In it were a few pieces of paper, declaring themselves to be property of the Bank of England.

Was this money? He’d have to learn how to use it to exchange for other material objects. Like books, or pornography. Or pornography books?

Something moved in his lower midsection, causing him great discomfort and near pain. Gabriel hunched over himself with an arm placed around his belly. Something gurgled inside of him. No, he could not be sick already!

He stumbled to the entrance of the alleyway, face scrunched in an attempt to process the feelings around him. Everything was too bright and equally not bright enough at the same time. Heaven had the light of God’s Grace to brighten every corner up there. This planet had a less literal version of that. So Earth got its light mostly from the sun, which was nowhere close to God in power. His eyes still detested looking into it though.

Some part inside of Gabriel hoped that his suffering at this moment would prove to be enough of a lesson to allow him access to his old position. He’d sent up a silent prayer asking for forgiveness, but nothing more than a brief halt in the wind was offered for an answer.

He sighed and gave up. The city was easier to navigate in the daylight. He somehow knew the way back to Aziraphale, and had to hope that the angel had changed his mind. If it was God that planted that nugget of knowledge in his head, he’d simply never know.

Meanwhile in Soho, an angel and a demon were sharing a sofa. The angel wanted to finish the book he’d started the day before, and the demon just wanted to soak up whatever heat and love the angel had to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert general apologies at my terrible updating time* just because i have every chapter plotted out doesn't mean i know how i want to write them
> 
> comments always motivate an author to write quicker! 
> 
> i can't make any promises to when the next chapter will be out but i have an idea of when i want it to be out in my head. feel free to harass me if it gets to be more than a few weeks tho bc that is def later than when i want it to be out


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